


Veneration

by SmutSummit



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: 6000 Years of Pining (Good Omens), Accidental Voyeurism, Anal Sex, Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Blow Jobs, Bottom Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), First Time Blow Jobs, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M, Oral Sex, Pillow Principality Aziraphale (Good Omens), Post-Almost Apocalypse (Good Omens), Rimming, Service Top Crowley (Good Omens), Top Crowley (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-30
Updated: 2020-01-30
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:15:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22472455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SmutSummit/pseuds/SmutSummit
Summary: Their kiss continued, brutal and hot.  Aziraphale suddenly remembered how his arms worked circled them around the demon's waist pulling him closer.  Crowley broke off the kiss with a sharp inhale and moved his head to rest against the angel's."Tell me to leave, angel." Raw need vibrated through the demon's voice.  He pressed his forehead against Aziraphale's.  His hands trembled as they cradled the angel's face.  He took another ragged breath. "You don't want to do this!  You don't want this from me!"Now it was Aziraphale's turn to inhale sharply.  Their mouths were so close that their breath mingled. He could feel heat from the demon, from their pressed foreheads, down his chest, to his groin. He drained away any trace of alcohol from his system and let cold, hard clarity wash over him.  This was...dangerous. This was wild and thoughtless. Hedonistic. This should stop. That would be for the best. Safe. Sane. Responsible."No" Aziraphale's voice ghosted the word.  Then bolder, louder, steadier "Stay, please. I want this." He clasped his hands against the demon's and tipped his head back to meet Crowley's eyes. "I want you."
Comments: 3
Kudos: 105





	1. World in My Eyes

**Author's Note:**

> While writing this, I listened to my high school era Depeche Mode (Violater, Songs of Faith and Devotion). That was the time and place I started noticing cynical, skinny, too-cool-for-school guys with awesome hair. The sex/religion/obsession themes seemed appropriate to the story and I titled the chapters for my favorite tracks. Enjoy.

"And that's another damn thing!" Crowley growled loudly. He stalked to the sideboard, poured a fresh glass, drank half, refilled it, and returned to his chair.

Aziraphale waited while Crowley glared at the glass in his hands as if it had offered him a grave insult. The seconds ticked by.

"What is?"

"What is what?"

Aziraphale sighed. Crowley was in a disagreeable state, even for him. "What is another damn thing, Crowley?"

"Mmphm!" Crowley grumbled, clearly done with that line of thought and racing on to his next grievance.

It had been a lovely evening. Since averting Armageddon they'd been able to have quite a few of them. An afternoon stroll through the park, supper at a quaint Indonesian place, dessert at a cafe, and drinks at Aziraphale's bookshop. All the parts were there to make for a pleasant time. Except for Crowley. He had seemed fine when they met. But as the evening progressed, Aziraphale noticed he become broody, then agitated. He moved constantly, unable to get comfortable.

"Crowley, now really! What is the matter? You're....surly!" The demon was usually far more laid back, especially when they drank together like this.

Crowley took another large gulp for an answer. His dark glasses were somehow back on, shutting Aziraphale out.

"Come now. Something is bothering you."

"Everything is fine, alright?"

"Is it Hell?"

Crowley placed his glass on the table and sighed dramatically. He hunched froward, knees on elbows, hands hanging down. His dark glasses were gone and he stared forward, to a space in front of Aziraphale.

"No, Hell's been steering clear of me. Look, angel. S'nothing really. Just...I haven't been Tempting humans lately, not in a...a meaningful way. Not in the way I used to." He began staring at his hands. "It's part of my nature, and I haven't done it. Making me agitated."

"Well how do you tempt them?"

"You don't want to know."

"I do. Maybe I can help you out with it? Part of our Arrangement.

Crowley snorted derisively and looked at him directly.

"We've helped each other out with lots of things in the past."

"Not like this."

"Really, now. Tell me, I insist!"

"I fuck, alright?" The demon responded testily.

"Y...you"

"I fuck." he repeated. "Or I _get_ fucked." He took a drink and faced away again. "I've never been particular."

Aziraphale turned bright red.

Crowley turned back to him. "What? You don't think I've been handing out shiny, red apples this whole time, do you?"

No, he didn't think that. "I..I see." Aziraphale fidgeted with the stem of his glass.

"You asked. I told you that you wouldn't want to know about it. Not your _thing_."

"No, no. We can talk about this." He responded, putting on his best 'good listener' demeanor. "Hell doesn't have a monopoly on sex. Angels deal with such matters all the time."

The demon laughed bitterly, "Not like this! It's not love and fulfillment and commitment and pair-bonding. That's your side of things." Crowley snorted. "Train-station kisses in the rain, whispered endearments, romance." He pulled a face. "I'm talking about Temptation! Enticement! Luring them into something they secretly want, but act as if they don't."

"Ah. I see. Well, things must be very convenient for you then. The humans...they seem more libertine these days. More, uh, free..." Aziraphale knew he was babbling now, trying to fill in the loud, heavy silence.

"Yeah, you'd think so, but it's actually quite the opposite." Crowley breathed out deeply. He shifted sideways in his chair - back against the right arm, knees hooked over the left. Dramatically he flung his left arm over the chair back and stared into the middle distance. His sharp profile was turned to Aziraphale, yellow eyes half-lidded.

"These past decades - that whole twentieth century!" He took on a mocking tone: "'Sex is natural, sex is healthy. Lets all just have sex with each other now.' Fucking hedonists!" Crowley clenched his teeth and allowed a glabellar line to crease his brow. "You see, they don't deny themselves anymore. It isn't bad!"

Aziraphale was distressed by this whole conversation. He felt like his skin was too tight. He wanted to offer help so he opened his mouth, hoping that something intelligent would come out. But Crowley was clearly in the mood to hear himself complain.

"All around us, humans having free and casual sex. And if they aren't, it's because they don't want to. Not because it's forbidden! Now how in the Hell is any one supposed to seduce in that kind of environment?" Crowley leaned his head heavily to the side and circled his right hand as if asking for his next line.

"Um, well, I.."

"And don't tell me about their stupid little hard-to-get games." He rolled on. "'No, no, we must not! Chase me!'" He scratched his thumbnail hard against his glass as if he meant to etch it. Maybe he did.

Aziraphale couldn't have said anything, even if he'd had a response - which he didn't. He suddenly found the edge of the rug in front of him very interesting.

"Very different in the old days" Crowley leaned his head back, staring at the ceiling. "You know what always worked? A musician! Someone with complex, distant, poetic feelings. Noble maidens to rural farm-girls. Every time!" Crowley smiled roguishly and rubbed his left index finger across his chin, slowly swirling the drink in his right hand. "And don't get me started on Tempting men! So easy! Time was, find the one that fancied me and you could just about guarantee he felt a bit guilty about it." He raised his glass in Aziraphale's direction. "Nice job on that."

"Oh come now, Crowley!" Aziraphale's indignation flared, temporarily replacing his confused, abashed silence. "Convincing humans it's a sin to love one another because of gender? I see _your_ side's dirty fingerprints...dirty hoof prints, all over that one!" Arizaphale glared at Crowley, who had the grace to look contrite, staring down at his hands and nodding slightly.

"Well, in any case, my point remains. Once upon a time, humans were just begging me for a good, long, hard Temptation."

"Fine! I'll take your word for it. Well, how about adultery? They still do that."

"Cheats and deceivers? Now its my turn to be offended." Crowley grumbled. "Different department entirely." He too another drink.

Arizaphale pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed in frustration. This wasn't going well at all. The whole conversation was shocking and unnerving. He didn't want to talk about Crowley's trysts. He almost wished he hadn't demanded Crowley open up. Almost, but not really. As an angel it was in his nature to try to offer comfort. Still, he would have liked to just chat and joke all evening. He could really do without this prickly, nervous feeling.

Crowley suddenly laughed and faced Aziraphale. "You know come to think of it, you would actually be great at bedding humans nowadays! It's ALL about love and joy and companionship and curiosity."

"Crowley, you're..."

"No, I've got it!" He barrelled on. "We'll go to a bar and you could be my...wing-man!" the demon hissed with snakey laughter.

Aziraphale stared daggers.

"But, no. I'm completely serious. Humans would queuing up around the corner to get a piece of you."

"Don't be absurd!" Aziarphale responded primly. He was really becoming cross now. The demon was mocking him. "The whole matter...is just...messy...undignified."

"Well, that means you're doing it right." Crowley smirked at him.

"I can't see any appeal." the angel huffed.

"You can't?"

"No! Humans are...I love humans. But they're..human *****!

"Fine. Not your preference, I grant you that. But what about sex itself?"

Aziraphale wrapped himself in righteous, prudishness indignation. "Angels don't have bodily desires, or....prurient thoughts!"

"They don't?"

"No."

"Never?"

"Certainly not!"

"Is that so?"

Crowley squirmed back slightly against the arm of his chair as if trying to get comfortable. He took a bracing drink then lounged back, left arm over the back of the chair, holding his glass in the right with a thin, elegant finger tracing the rim. Yellow eyes stared thoughtfully at a point somewhere over his shoes. Perfect, planned nonchalance.

He cleared his throat. And then again. "You know, what I really miss? Those dreary, medieval monasteries. So preoccupied with piety and virtue. So caught up in rejecting any and all sins of the flesh. But all it took was a kind word here, a longing glance there, and" He snapped. "Like that, down on their knees!"

Another inward smirk. Another drink. "I remember that one lad in, uh...the Cambridgeshire one with the funny name. That...perky...one. You know who I'm talking about, angel." The glasses were back on, just so they could be lowered when Crowley turned and stared at Aziraphale over their tops. "You were there."

* * *

***** Aziraphale is not a humansexual. No humo.


	2. Halo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sex scene is deliberately painted in broad strokes (hehe!) in an attempt to minimize creeper vibes. It's Aziraphale's memory. Explicit scenes to follow.

**Medeshamstede, Kingdom of Mercia, 8th Century**

This was definitely his favorite monastery so far, Arizaphale decided.

The angel had been traveling through Mercia as a friar. He comforted here, performed the discreet miracle there and learned all he could about Anglo-Saxon culture and architecture.

Traveling as on foot as a mendicant was certainly not his preferred means of getting around. His clothes were scratchy and dirty - and the food was atrocious! He was glad he didn't need to actually eat to survive, and could claim to be piously fasting when necessary. But poverty was all the rage now and Upstairs had been prying into his activities lately. He needed to keep a low, and lowly, profile for a while.

All the same he was glad he had made it out this far. A monastery was a great place to bring healing and education. These monks were exceptionally studious and kind. Their mission, pastoral care, was quite inspiring. Certainly this religion got a few things wrong...actually, quite a lot wrong...but that part was something they got right.

He would leave at first light when the monks woke for Lauds. They had provided a cot for him, of course, but Aziraphale had no need for sleep. So he walked silently down the halls, committing various structural details to memory. He had just left the kitchen, where he'd lingered for a while to pet all the fat, lazy cats. The only place left to visit was the infirmary. Well and good. Perhaps some ailing human would be awake and in need of solace.

Before heading into the infirmary proper, Aziraphale stopped at the nearby herbarium. He hadn't had the chance to look at all of the medical scrolls which the monks kept in there, along with their herbs and mixing equipment. The herbariaum door was secured by a crude but effective iron lock. Rather than disturb it, Aziraphale simply transubstantiated and passed under the door as a shadow. 

The room was bigger than a monk's cell, but cramped with shelves. There was a low, wide table along one wall holding mortars and pestles and other utensils. Aziraphale took stock of the fresh and dried herbs. Betony, willow's bark, comfrey, mugwort, yarrow. Except not yarrow - cow parsley. Well, that wasn't going to help anyone! The angel saw a prefect chance for a helpful, discrete miracle: transform cow parsley to yarrow. But Upstairs might think it was frivolous. It just didn't seem fair - the monks had the idea right, they simply dug up the wrong plant. Maybe he could mention something offhandedly before he left? But to whom? The abbot wouldn't remember. Hmmm ...maybe the....

His thoughts were interrupted by a scraping sound, iron on iron. Someone had unlocked the herbarium door. Whomever it was was not being quiet. Their whispering was louder than regular speech would have been and there seemed to be a great deal of movement. Aziraphale pressed his shadowy self against the wall beside the door as two humans tumbled through it.

They wore monk's robes, but seemed quite young. 20, maybe? a little younger? Novices, probably. They appeared to be fighting, arms entangled and pulling at each other's clothes.

Oh. Not fighting.

The moon was full and illuminated most of the room through a small window. Aziraphale recognized the Infirmarian's cheerful, blond assistant - Edwold? Edred? Of course he would have the key. The other was a stranger, not that he had a chance to meet everyone. He was leaner, lanky and sharply handsome. His hair was cropped close and without distinct color in the moonlight.

No. Not a stranger.

"Crowley!" Aziraphale gasped. At least he would have if shadows had lungs and mouths.

He hadn't seen Crowley for a long time. Decades. Perhaps even a century? But there was no mistaking him. He wore a light glamour to appear youthful and approximately human-eyed, but it was nothing the angel didn't see through. What was he doing here?

Of course the answer to that was spectacularly obvious - Temptation. Either that, or giving the Infirmarian's assistant a very unique opportunity to learn first-hand whether or not demons had tonsils.

They roughly shoved the door behind themselves. It closed snugly (and suspiciously quietly for such a heavy door). Crowley pushed the young man farther into the room, backing him up against the wide table.

This was just preposterous! Tempting a human right under an angel's nose? Not that shadow's had noses, but still, that certainly took some nerve! Aziraphale wanted to feel incensed, but he had to admit to himself that this was probably a part of the demon's job. Crowley wouldn't have known the angel was at the monastery, much less hovering in shadow form less than five feet away.

In any case, he thought, maybe he ought to do something? As much as he might actually like Crowley personally, they were on different sides. Wasn't he expected to...thwart demons? To rescue humans from their wiles? But it seemed like the last thing the human wanted was a "rescue" from his situation.

Crowley's arm moved down to the front of the young man's body, pushing robes aside. Aziraphale couldn't quite see where the hand went, but the sharp intake of breath and low moaning indicated it had found its mark. Aziraphale may have been a shadow, but he still felt his jaw drop. Ug! Why couldn't Edwold-Edred have just found himself a nice, normal human boy? Someone a bit less demonic?

By now the demon had pushed the youth down onto the table and was astride him. Their heavy robes had been cast aside. By someone's grace the moonlight hit the lip of the window at an angle that cloaked the human mostly in shadow - a relief for Aziraphale. However, it also cast Crowley in a silver nimbus.

The moon glow picked out the demon's every detail, from his elegant cheekbones to his long, lithe muscles. It highlighted his every action. Unlike the earlier fumbling he now moved elegantly - dipping forward, arching back. Aziraphale was speechless and motionless, and would have been so even if he wasn't a shadow. Crowley glided with the smooth grace of a feline. No, a serpent. In fact, exactly like a serpent - one opening wide and swallowing down a mouthful. His jaw and throat muscled worked rhythmically, without any gag reflex or particular need to breathe.

The angel slumped against the wall, more shadow-like than ever before. The demon's Temptation was depraved (glorious) to behold. A million thoughts spun in Aziraphale's mind, but none settled. There were none that could fit into his tidy, proper, angelic track of thought. Who knows how long he would have remained fixated and fascinated? But Crowley broke off his ministrations and lifted his head. His yellow eyes focused in on a spot next to the door, the very spot where an angelic shadow lie. The demon gave a quick grin and winked before returning to task at hand....mouth.

Aziraphale flitted his shadow-self under the door and down the hallway. He found himself at the monastery's wall without actually meaning to go there. Just as well, it was high time he left. He sent a quick memory of leave-taking the night before to the abbot and caused a small patch of yarrow to bloom in the yard. Heaven would just have to accept that. Then the angel slipped through the monastery gate and was out of Medeshamstede before remembering to resume physical form.


	3. Policy of Truth

"Hey! Hello? Aziraphale?" Crowley's voice pipped up. The demon was sitting upright now with a smug smile.

Aziraphale startled. His thoughts had been a thousand years away. "Uh, what?"

"You kind of blanked out for a second there. We were talking about Medesham _sss_ tede." Crowley pulled out the sibilants.

"Um, yes. Well, so, we-we're going to talk about that." There was no use in pretending. No point acting as if he didn't know what Crowley meant.

"Yes, let's. Let's..bring it out of the shadows, so to say."

Aziraphale hadn't seen Crowley for almost another century after that. When they did meet, the demon had a dozen urgent matters to talk about. He didn't mention the monastery. Aziraphale was greatly relieved. He told himself Crowley never knew he was there - not at the monastery and certainly not spying on his activities. He had just been reading things into a...an eye twitch. The angel tried (but failed) to put the incident out of his mind entirely.

"So...." Aziraphale tried to begin.

"So."

"Um...I was..."

"You were lurking." Crowley said with drunken conviction.

"Just...just checking their herbs. They had yarrow. But it was cow parsley..."He trailed off.

"Huh. And then, what? Little bout of angelic voyeurism?"

"Um. D-divine Intercession?" Aziraphale's tongue stumbled. "I thought, maybe. Well, I..I didn't know you quite so well then. We weren't working together yet. And, and I thought maybe I was supposed to...."

"Divine Intercession? Uh-huh. I see. Well, that clears everything up." Obviously it did not.

Crowley stood up and paced behind the settee where Aziraphale sat. He dropped his elbows onto the back, steepled his fingers, rested his chin on them and frowned in deep thought. "Now...forgive me, I'm rusty on this...But as I recall, Divine Intercession doesn't require direct physical proximity. Seems to me that it can come from, oh, I don't know, outside a room?"

Aziraphale swallowed and searched for something to say.

"And why would that poor human need Divine Intercession? Was he being....coerced? Tricked? Deceived? Did he seem confused? Drunk?" Crowley paused between each question, "Young Edmer wasn't marked for any special purpose, divine or infernal. Just a regular, run-of-the-mill human, free to choose his own vices." Crowley dropped his arms forward and turned his head toward the angel. "So, I'll ask you again. Why were you lurking there?"

Aziraphale didn't have an answer.

"Do you want to know what I think?" Crowley asked.

"Um, no." Aziraphale answered weakly.

"I think." Clearly he hadn't really been asking a question. The demon moved closer, "I think that maybe...maybe just some small part of you..." His mouth now hovered next to Aziraphale's ear. "...stayed to watch me _sss_ uck cock." He snapped his teeth lightly.

Aziraphale drew a sharp breath in. His ears burned. His heart squeezed and he felt like it would pound out of his chest. Not that that would actually harm him in any way, but it was a starling feeling none the less.

"Am I wrong, angel?" Crowley began circling back around slowly. "Tell me you don't think about it. Tell me such a _prurient_ thought doesn't slip in from the edges of your mind sometimes, weaving into your pious, virginal, angelic ideas." Crowley was now standing directly in front of him.

Angels are not good liars. They can fib, prevaricate, dissemble, and speak in lofty abstracts. But they can't outright deny a truth. Crowley was right and the angel knew it. Aziraphale did think about it, a lot. Angels weren't supposed to have those kinds of thoughts -- and absolutely not have the feelings that such thoughts arose in him.

Aziraphale felt decidedly like a small bird facing a python. It was an irrational feeling. He was the stronger of the two and could easily smite Crowley with a touch, a word or even a thought. Despite his meek, self-effacing manner, Aziraphale possessed Heaven's serene fortitude and was immune from emotional manipulation or intimidation. But still, he felt tingly, as if he was a wire vibrating with electricity. It was disquieting, dangerous. It was...thrilling.

Crowley leaned in until the were face to face."You think I can't see it in you? Can't smell it on you?" His moved his mouth next to Aziraphale's left ear, whispering "Your desire radiates out of every pore."

He moved his face back to Aziraphale's. He placed his hands against the settee on either side of Aziraphale's head, leaning further in, caging him. "It's in there, screaming at me, in everything you do. Your coquettish glances, those artfully obtuse innuendos, your foodgasms, your...natty little bowtie! Calling out: 'Please! Please, Crowley, kiss me! Please fuck me!'"

Time stopped. The demon's mouth was inches from his own. _He's going to kiss me_ , Aziraphale thought. _Right here, right now, Crowley is going to kiss me._

But he didn't. Crowley made a low noise in his throat and stepped away. He collapsed into the seat next to the angel and pressed fingers to his temples, clearing out the evening's alcohol.

Then the demon sat back and stared straight ahead. He placed his hand over his mouth and exhaled slowly. "Well, I should leave." He stood.

"Leave?" Aziraphale unfroze. "Wait! No, you can't go. I'll admit it. I think about it, about that." Quietly. "About you." Silently. _About us._

"That's why I'm leaving." Crowley said, shrugging on a black jacket, pointedly not looking at him. "Wouldn't want any prurient thoughts breaking out. Terrible things! Frightening for good little angels."

Anger flared. Now Crowley was just being a jackass. "Don't patronize me, Crowley! I'm not a child!" 

"Oh, I'm well aware of that." He finally glanced at Aziraphale, darkly. "Rather uncomfortably aware, if I may be frank." He turned and walked out of the sitting room, waving a hand up in a quick, half-hearted farewell.

 _Uncomfortably aware? Did he mean..?_ Before he could stop himself, Aziraphale leapt after the demon. He reached Crowley in the short hallway leading to the main store, grabbing him by the shoulders and turning him about face. Without thinking, without even thinking about thinking, he kissed the demon full on the lips.


	4. Personal Jesus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [[GRAPHIC CONTENT]]

Suddenly Aziraphale was pinned to the wall behind him with Crowley's mouth pressed down on his. He gasped, opening up to a hot, probing, demon tongue. Crowley's hands captured his face, grinding their mouths even closer together. The demon felt hot - his lips, his tongue, his fingers - they burned. Aziraphale felt more alive, more corporeal, than ever before as Crowley's hands moved from his face into his hair, and to the sides of his neck.

Their kiss continued, brutal and hot. Aziraphale suddenly remembered how his arms worked circled them around the demon's waist pulling him closer. Crowley broke off the kiss with a sharp inhale and moved his head to rest against the angel's.

"Tell me to leave, angel." Raw need vibrated through the demon's voice. He pressed his forehead against Aziraphale's. His hands trembled as they cradled the angel's face. He took another ragged breath. "You don't want to do this! You don't want this from me!"

Now it was Aziraphale's turn to inhale sharply. Their mouths were so close that their breath mingled. He could feel heat from the demon, from their pressed foreheads, down his chest, to his groin. He drained away any trace of alcohol from his system and let cold, hard clarity wash over him. This was...dangerous. This was wild and thoughtless. Hedonistic. This should stop. That would be for the best. Safe. Sane. Responsible.

"No" Aziraphale's voice ghosted the word. Then bolder, louder, steadier "Stay, please. I want this." He clasped his hands against the demon's and tipped his head back to meet Crowley's eyes. "I want you."

Crowley groaned out something that would have been positively obscene in Mesopotamia. He captured Azirapale's mouth in another deep, hard kiss. The demon's tongue swirled around his own. With quick fingers he loosened Aziraphale's bowtie and opened his collar wide. Crowley lowered his mouth to lay hot kisses along the angel's neck. He nipped at the skin lightly. Aziraphale never would have imagined being bitten could be enjoyable, but that was before he felt the rasp of teeth and hot demon breath on his skin.

Aziraphale's own hands griped at Crowley's back and shoulders. He wasn't moving them on purpose, his body had a mind of its own. Grabbing, clenching, grasping and kneading. Crowley's leg had wedged in between his own and the angel found he was _grinding_ against it, needing contact, needing stimulation.

Crowley had let go of his neck with one hand and moved it down to the front of Aziraphale's trousers. The demon pressed his palm flat against the stiffening, lengthening bulge there. Aziraphale could feel the heat of Crowley's hand through his clothing. The angel certainly knew about human biology and sexuality. He knew what his body was doing, but knowing about it and feeling it are entirely different sensations. The demon increased pressure and moved his hand up and down. 

His second hand joined the first as the demon deftly unbuckled Aziraphale's belt and unzipped his trousers. Aziraphale then felt hot demon fingers holding and stroking him. He leaned back his head and moaned in a most unangelic manner. He felt tingling bursts throughout his fingers and hands. He heard blood pounding in his ears. His nipples were tight knots rubbing against his shirt. This was wild. Frantic. Aziraphale felt like a creature of pure instinct, without thought or reason, just sensation.

Crowley returned his left hand to the angel's head, weaving it through his hair. With this grip he pulled Aziraphale's head to the side, exposing his neck. The demon placed wet, sucking kisses up the side while steadily pumping the angel's cock. Crowley reached the angel's earlobe and pulled it into his mouth. He grazed his teeth before releasing it to hiss in Aziraphale's ear, "You want me to suck this, don't you? Hm?" He increased pressure. " _Sss_ ay it!"

"I do! I want...want you to...use your mouth." Aziraphale managed.

Crowley released the angel's head and stepped back slightly. He moved his left arm behind Aziraphale's waist and pulled the angel's hips out toward him. His right hand retained its vise-like grip on Aziraphale's cock. He roughly tugged at the angel's trousers, pulling them down low on his hips. 

The demon slithered down to the floor and shoved aside Aziraphale's offending clothing. The angel's freed cock belonged to a marble statue - broad, hard, smooth and pale with fine blue veining. Crowley kept his his long fingers wrapped around the shaft, pumping, but now rubbed his thumb along the frenulum. Every fiber, every nerve of Arziraphale's corporeal being felt like it had shifted into that heretofore ignored six inches of his body.

The demon looked up, locking eyes with Aziraphale while sinking down further until his mouth was level with the angel's throbbing cock. Crowley's forked tongue flickered out and licked away the drops of moisture beading at the tip. He continued licking at the head, drawing lazy circles. The demon shifted his grip, angling Aziraphale's penis upwards. He ran his entire long, flat, narrow tongue along the underside, wet and scorchingly hot. His eyes never left the angel's.

It was fortunate that Aziraphale didn't actually need to breath, because he had forgotten how to do so.

With his hypnotic, unblinking stare still fixed on Aziraphale, Crowley opened his mouth over the head. He closed his lips down and pulled them back almost all the way off. His mouth bobbed back and forth on the head, tongue lapping.

It was.....it was like nothing Azriaphale could describe. How did the humans ever accomplish anything when they could just do this with each other all day?

Crowley's opened his mouth wider, now taking in Aziraphale's entire shaft. He gripped the angel's hips and slid his lips all the way down the the root. His cheeks hollowed with suction while his flexible tongue pushed and stroked along the underside. His eyes were closed in devotional concentration. Aziraphale didn't know what more erotic, watching or feeling the demon's hot mouth working his cock.

The angel felt a tingling tension building up. It felt...a bit like a sneeze coming on - his body clenching up for an involuntary, convulsive explosion. Crowley resumed his bold eye contact and increased suction. He made a low humming noise.

Aziraphale burst. There was no other word for it. He felt his body come apart and he was pulled back, back the the Beginning - matter and time forming and un-forming in one eternal, cosmic second. He seemed to be moaning something primeval, but he had no idea what it could be. Bright yellow stars exploded all around him, until coalescing as a pair of demonic eyes staring up into his.

Crowley's hand had returned to the base of Aziraphale's shaft. The demon languidly pulled his mouth off of the angel's cock. He maintained eye contact and swallowed, slowly and deliberately. Aziraphale found his breath again as the demon stood up in front of him, tilting his head left and right slightly, stretching his neck. The angel felt like he should say something, anything, but words were not forming in his brain or mouth.

"Crowley..." he managed

The demon draped his arms almost casually across Aziraphale's shoulders, "Take me upstairs, angel?"


	5. Walking in My Shoes

Aziraphale may have been _thinking about it_ since their time at the monastery, but Crowley had been yearning for millennia. Ever since he had first talked to him in the Garden, before he knew what sex or desire was, he had been fascinated. The angel was so...so genuine in his love for everything, but not in the smug, sanctimonious way of so many other angels. From then on, whenever their paths crossed, Crowley always found a reason to chat -- any reason at all to be near the angel. When it came up, he had gladly accepted assignment to this cold, sunless island just because Aziraphale was here.

Crowley had only been at the Medeshamstede monastery a week before Aziraphale arrived. He had slipped in with the delegation visiting from a daughter house. A monastery was a great place to bring mayhem and mischief. And Temptation.

When the angel did arrive Crowley felt his heart leap, _he's here because of me!_ But Aziraphale didn't notice him at all, instead spending his time discussing philosophy and healing with the elder monks. _Well, fine then!_ The angel wasn't the only one with a job to do. Not the only one with quotas. There were rivalries to inflame, doubts to sow, important items to misplace...and that infirmary boy had been buzzing around him non-stop since his arrival. The devil's work is never done.

Crowley had known that Aziraphale was somewhere nearby at the time, he always did. But he was surprised to see the angel was actually in the herbarium when they crashed through the door. Aziraphale's presence shone out with a soft, golden light in any form he might take. This close up the angel certainly recognized him, and Crowley wasn't making a secret of his intentions. What was the Aziraphale doing there? Why didn't he leave? Or do something?

As the minutes passed, Crowley's bewilderment was replaced by anger and resentment. Aziraphale hadn't deigned to notice him for days, but **now** he was paying attention to him? Now, when Crowley was in the middle of a Temptation? Well, if the angel wanted a show, he would get one! He _could_ have sent the rustic off happily with a gropey hand-job or an Ephebia Rub ***** , but since he had an audience, Crowley might as well make a man out of him! He could just picture Arizaphale's face: eyes wide...pupils dilated...skin flushed...sweet, soft mouth agape....heart pounding....

Afterwards, Crowley regretted his behavior. Aziraphale probably had something he needed to do in that room. The demon could have dragged the boy off elsewhere, or just made plans for the following night. By acknowledging his presence, he'd probably offended Aziraphale and scared him away for ever. When their paths finally did cross again, Crowley quickly made up conversation, hoping the angel would simply let things slide under the rug. And it had worked. They built up their Arrangement and a friendship over the ensuing centuries. Neither one mentioned the monastery - until tonight.

Growing close to Aziraphale and working beside him soothed Crowley's yearning and he was mostly content. But in recent decades, the angel's obvious, growing infatuation with him made things....uncomfortable. It brought out the longings and desires that Crowley had tried for millennia to fuck away with fair-haired, buxom shepherdesses and mild-mannered, towheaded clerks.

Not that he had even been doing that regularly for quite a while. It was just too much trouble now for too little reward. Crowley hadn't even looked at a human since he and Aziraphale had begun their project of trying to raise a morally neutral Anti-Christ. Meanwhile the angel kept at it - gazing at Crowley as if everything he did or said was amazingly interesting, or else shyly glancing at him through his long lashes. And earlier that evening, Aziraphale just had to drop his eyes to Crowley's mouth while absentmindedly sucking on his dessert spoon and making a little moaning noise! Infuriating! The demon certainly knew why he was on edge and ready to drink the night away.

Crowley told himself that only meant to rattle the Aziraphale by bringing up the monastery. Seriously, it had just been a joke! He knew the angel didn't fancy humans! Why did Aziraphale have to become so priggish? That wasn't like him. Yes, the demon was agitated, randy as Hell and more than a little drunk....so maybe he had shared too many details but the angel had insisted. Besides, it had felt...good...to finally talk to someone about that murky part of his life. At least it did until Aziraphale became preachy and judgmental. Well, _some_ angels, fallen or otherwise, had actual work to do. They didn't simply "guide, protect and inspire" humanity, wielding their fancy crowns and scepters.

So he'd decided to tease Aziraphale a bit. Make the angel aware that he _knew_. Aziraphale probably thought he was being subtle with his...his schoolgirl crush. The angel might have naughty thoughts in secret, but he wouldn't admit to them and certainly wouldn't act on them. Aziraphale said it himself - angels didn't do _that_ type of thing. Crowley would give the angel a bit of a shock, leave him alone for a few weeks to get over his embarrassment, and then everything would be back to normal. In the mean time, he would go home and try to sleep this off. Alone. The demon was done with sexual Temptation. He wasn't answering to Hell anymore - they could find themselves a new whore.

However the demon's plans had all gone pear-shaped. As soon as his face was close to Aziraphale's, when he'd felt the sweet breath cool against his skin and saw the eager, kiss-me-now look in the angel's eyes, he was consumed by burning, tortured need. And then hearing the angel's words, so free and sure: _I want you. I want this_. How much could one demon take? Crowley was damned already. Why should he hold back if Aziraphale didn't want him to? Why should he deny himself, deny both of them? He was a demon, for fuck's sake! He didn't do Temperance or Prudence or Caution! It certainly wasn't his job to protect people from themselves.

Certainly being thrown up against one's sitting room wall and orally serviced by a frenzied demon wasn't anyone's ideal first sexual experience. Well...not for most anyway. Crowley could taste the angel on his tongue - salty, slightly metallic, a hint sweet. He wanted more of him, now! As much as he could get! But at least the edge was off and he could think more clearly. He'd do the rest of this right.

Crowley drank in the emotions shining from Aziraphale: exultation, desire, wonder. Everything he had dreamed of for so long. And hunger! The angel's desire hadn't been quenched yet. He wanted more as well. _Thank Hell!_ Crowley knew he needed to keep up momentum before the moment slipped away. A bed, he had to find a bed.

"Take me upstairs, angel?"

* * *

 ***** Like an Oxford Rub but in ancient Athens.


	6. I Feel You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [[GRAPHIC CONTENT]]

Crowley didn't know if the angel actually had a bedroom upstairs; it may have just been book storage. But Azriaphale knew what he meant by "upstairs" and indeed, an instant later they stood in a bedroom. Crowley grinned. He had meant that Aziraphale should lead him there but it seemed the angel was eager to continue.

Whether it had existed for ten years or ten seconds, this was exactly what "bedroom" would mean to Aziraphale. Huge, lovely, carved wooden armoire to one side. Tidy shelves crowded with books, photographs and fascinating knick-knacks. Warm soft colors throughout. A cozy reading chair and a simple double bed, both piled with fluffy pillows and charming quilts. Fresh, bright flowers in vases. Charming. Quaint. _Well, it could be worse_ , the demon sighed.

Without the wall supporting him any, Aziraphale stumbled on weakened knees. Crowley caught him and eased the angel to sit on the bed, feeling quite pleased with his skills.

Crowley kissed Aziraphale again, slowly this time. The angel moved against him, kissing back eagerly. Crowley kept himself in check. He could do slow. He could do restrained. Anything the angel wanted.

Crowley pulled gently at Aziraphale's jacket, and the angel shrugged out of it. Next the waistcoat came off and Crowley moved on to the buttons of his shirt. He felt the angel's bare skin as it glided off, smooth and slightly cool to the touch. Crowley yanked off his own shirt furiously and pushed Aziraphale flat against the bed with a kiss.

Hot skin slid against cool. Crowley's desire raged at him, but he managed to keep a rein on it. He moved with control, kissing the angel on the mouth, jaw, neck, shoulders. The skin was flawless and smelled slightly of cedar. _Control! Keep it under control._

Aziraphale's hands flattened across Crowley's back, dropped, picked up and dropped again. He made a distressed sound. Crowley tilted his head up to look at him. "I'm not...I don't know what I'm supposed to be doing!" the angel sighed.

Crowley smiled, "You're supposed to relax _sss_." He entwined their fingers and pulled Aziraphale's hands up to lie alongside his head. "And let me know what you want."

The angel blushed, "Well, uh, earlier...you said you could hear what...what I want. You were right." Aziraphale stammering was adorable. It was...hot - watching raw desire wrestle with propriety. "I'd like you to...uh, _take_ me."

 _Thank the saints below!_ He wanted to fuck Aziraphale so badly that he thought he was going to go insane. "Alright." he answered as casually as possible. He unlaced their fingers, moving to encircle the angel's wrists, pinning them to the mattress below. "I can _take_ you. Let me know if you want to stop." Aziraphale nodded enthusiastically.

Crowley kissed him again deeply. Still controlled, but with growing intensity. He kept Aziraphale's wrists pinned, enjoying his token resistance. If the angel wanted him to take control then he could definitely do that!

Crowley willed away his pants and scissored Aziraphale's legs with his own, resting his straining erection against Aziraphale's hip. The angel followed suit leaving their tangled legs naked. The demon gripped his outer hip, pulling him in tight. Crowley moved his lips along the angel's face, neck and shoulders. He dipped his head lower, marveling at the soft skin, and moved his mouth to the angel right nipple. He circled with his tongue, before taking it in his mouth. Aziraphale moaned. 

Crowley pulled the angel upright slightly and shifted him around so he lay on his front. He moved over Aziraphale, kissing his shoulders while running hands down his back. Smooth and flawless. The demon placed hot kisses slowly along his spine. He returned to bite at the angel's shoulders with increasing pressure. He pressed against Aziraphale's back aligning their hips. His erection slotted into the cleft of the angel's creamy cheeks. He moved against him slowly.

"Is thi _sss_ what you have in mind, angel?"

"Mmmhmm!"

Crowley sat back on his knees, lifting his weight off. He pulled Aziraphale's hips up and back, grinding his arousal against the angel's ass. Harder now. He gripped the angel's shoulder with one hand, and dragged the other along his spine, nails raking. The angel moaned and rolled his head up. Crowley slid fingers into his hair, tugging backwards.

"I can't hear you. Like thi _sss_? Do you want me to fuck you like thi _sss_?"

"Yes! God yes, please, Crowley!"

He stopped moving and gripped the angel's hips firmly. "We'll get there."

Crowley pulled back slightly, breaking the contact. He dragged a thumb up and down the angel's cleft. Aziraphale's breathe caught. Slowly the demon circled his thumb around the angel's puckered hole. Crowley backed up further to give himself more space. He parted Aziraphale's cheeks firmly and moved his head in.

The angel moaned wantonly when the demon's hot, wet tongue replaced his thumb. Crowley traced the hole with the tip, blowing out hot breath. He pushed Aziraphale's cheeks wider, leveraging himself and moved his lips in. The angel became nearly frantic, moaning loudly, as Crowley ate at his orifice with wet noises. A scalding demon tongue, longer and more dexterous than any human tongue ever could be, pushed into the taut hole. It twisted and pulsed, pulsed and twisted, lapping at tight muscles.

Aziraphale's hips shifted wildly, but Crowley held him steady. He continued relentlessly until he finally withdrew his tongue like a corkscrew and breathed out hot, wet breath. He moved his thumb back into place and sunk it inside the tight, wet ring. Aziraphale moaned anew as Crowley flexed his thumb about feeling the angel's passage tense and adjust.

Crowley performed a quick summoning and grabbed a vial of oil that now sat on the bedside table. He opened it and dropped thick, silky liquid over his index finger. He slid the long, lean finger gently into the angel's hole, replacing his thumb, and began stroking Aziraphale's canal walls, eliciting further moans. He slipped a second oily finger beside the first, moving and crooking his fingers, massaging taut muscles. Aziraphale rocked back against his hand, as the demon buried down to his third knuckles.

"Hrm. You want it _badly_ , don't you?" The demon asked.

"Yes, yes! Please...I want it! Make me yours!"


	7. Enjoy the Silence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I had to do it. Had to wrap up perfectly good smut as a love story where everything works out happily. No pain or heartbreak for our Aziraphale.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [[GRAPHIC CONTENT]]

"Yes, yes! Please...I want it! Make me yours!"

 _Make me yours_. "Turn over, angel." Crowley said thickly. "Look at me."

Crowley withdrew his hand to let Aziraphale shift onto onto his back. The angel was a mess - face flushed with huge, wild eyes, panting.

"I can't give you..." he tried to say. But the words wouldn't come out. Instead Crowley leaned in to kiss the angel deeply while slipping his slick fingers back inside. He brushed his thumb in circles against Aziraphale's perineum. The angel's cock twitched, stiffening to a semi-hard state. The demon slipped a third finger in, twisting and rocking his wrist, drawing out more wild moaning and writhing.

 _Can't give you what you need. What you deserve_. Aziraphale needed a lover, not a...roll in the hay! Someone who would cherish him, appreciate him, and move Heaven and Hell for him. _Fuck!_ This was wrong - but he could hardly stop and leave Aziraphale in this state.

Crowley removed his fingers and pulled Aziraphale's thighs around his waist. He gripped the base of his own shaft, rubbing oil along it and lining himself up against the angel's slick entrance. 

"Ready?" he asked. Aziraphale nodded. Crowley pushed forward, breaching the angel. He sank in steadily, pushing through the taut ring. The angel's channel clenched around the hard, slippery intruder until finally stretching to accommodate a demon cock. Crowley leaned forward, brushing his lips against Aziraphale's as he bottomed out.

"Alright, angel?" Crowley asked.

Aziraphale's "yes" was in between whine and a moan.

Crowley paused to let the angel adjust and catch his breath. Aziraphale's ass was squeezing him like a fist, throbbing and pulsating. Nothing had ever come close to this. The demon felt like he was going to erupt at any second. _Control, control!_ This was everything he'd yearned for for millennia. After thousands of years and thousands of beds, finally it was his desire being fulfilled.

And yet he was wretched. What kind of time was this for a demon to suddenly develop a conscience? When he had everything dreamed for so long writhing below him? _It's not my problem_ , a voice whispered

The demon began to move his hips slowly, experimentally. He grasped the angel's revived erection which poked against his stomach.

But it was his problem! What the Hell had he been thinking? Aziraphale wasn't some lust-filled human. Someone who would lose interest in him in a night, a week at most. Someone to forget him once his services were rendered and their desire satisfied. _Thanks for the orgasms, don't let the door hit your ass._ The feeling had certainly been mutual when it came to humans. But with the angel?

Crowley shifted, angling his thrusts upward hitting against the secret bundle of nerves deep inside Aziraphale. The angel moaned with an entirely new noise and his eyes rolled back. He clawed at the demon's shoulders. Crowley wished he could keep doing this for hours. For days. Forever. Driving Aziraphale into mindless ecstasy again and again. 

He hadn't been thinking at all, he'd just given into desire. Finally, **he** had been the one to submit to Temptation. And that meant he was going to lose Aziraphale forever after tonight because of it. Once the angel realized a demon wasn't capable of giving him anything beyond the physical he'd be cast out of Aziraphale's life. Crowley would only have this cherished memory to hold onto for the rest of his lonely eternity.

A demon, that's what he was. And Aziraphale needed to see that. Crowley pulled upright and pounded harder into the angel. He released all his heat and power into his thrusts - something no human could have withstood. Crowley altered the room's lighting to red flickering flames. He pulled in the shadows around them, making them move and twist. His snake's eyes glowed. Somewhere _Carmina Burana_ started playing. Crowley bared sharpened canines and spread his black wings out. He rose up above Aziraphale like a dark, chthonic god. 

That did it. Aziraphale came undone, breaking apart on the demon's thrusts and spilling over his hand. The angel keened and clenched, cried out Crowley's name and grabbed at the mattress below him.

Then Aziraphale reopened his clear, beautiful eyes and stared into his. There it all was. Passion, acceptance, warmth...adoration. Love. Aziraphale saw all of him, saw into every dark corner, and gave unlimited love to fill it all in. He gave freely, expecting nothing in return.

Something snapped inside him. Then everything burst from Crowley at once. He could love the angel! He did love the angel! Had loved him for so long! The words shouted out from him as he buried deep inside Aziraphale, releasing his seed, releasing his heart. Unstoppable, uncontrollable. It was like Falling again, but now in reverse. Spinning upwards from hard, sharp scorching ground and filling with light. More light than he could hold. He was light. Scattered across the Infinite as a wave-particle duality. Both, neither, all. Then he was pulled back together by strong arms and enfolded in bright, soft wings.

* * *

Crowley lay on the narrow bed, floating somewhere between bliss and consciousness, cradling his angel against his chest.

His angel.

Aziraphale purred endearments and what would have sounded like "Crowley" to human ears. But it was his True name, his Angelic name. Aziraphale knew what he himself had forgotten.

"I love you too, angel."

Aziraphale sighted contentedly, "So, a soiled angel and a demon in love. Neither side is going to be happy with that."

"Good thing we're on our side."

Aziraphale shifted. "Crowley" he asked thoughtfully, "Were you trying to make me envious? At Medeshamstede?"

"I'm not sure. Perhaps I was, a bit. Did it work?"

"Darling, I'm incapable of Envy. Of coveting what wasn't mine." He voiced hardened slightly, "But you are mine now."

"Yes, angel." Crowley smiled. "Always."

They lay in comfortable silence. Crowley felt...free. Free from pain or fear or hate or want. Complete

Aziraphale snuggled closer. "That, uh demon bit you did there, at the end....."

"You liked it?"

"Oh, very much! You were sublime." The angel answered. "But...do humans actually enjoy things like that?"

"You'd be surprised at what they go for, angel. You really would."

"Well I just love surprises." Aziraphale said playfully.

Crowley smiled again.


End file.
